


Flourish of Growth

by EtoileGarden



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: #trc big bang 2019, Dreaming, Established Relationship, M/M, TRC Big Bang, agruments, currently canon compliant, ronan and adam are working on being human beings, talking it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18592618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: During a university break, Adam and Ronan sit in a well trodden argument, and the magic that runs Ronan’s dreams decides to intervene and force them to see the argument to a close





	Flourish of Growth

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you amy (g-greywaren) for the great editing work!

  
  
  


If it made any difference, Ronan didn't mean to do it; sure, he had gone to bed wishing Adam would understand, would just _ get _ what it was like in Ronan's head so that Ronan wouldn't have to say words. 

 

But. 

 

This wasn't what he meant; he thought this very hard at his dream - as if it would fucking listen to him. 

 

“What the hell is this?” Adam asks him, which is a very valid question. 

 

He sounds pissed off, which is also fair especially seeing as they were quite pissed off with each other when they went to bed together (very solidly and grumpily on as far different sides of the bed as possible). He sounds a different kind of pissed off though; pissed off at the circumstances rather than Ronan, which was nice. 

 

“I'm not sure I can answer that,” Ronan admits, “I didn't plan this.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says. He doesn't say it like it's actually ok though. “It's still your… dream, though, right? In your head?” 

 

Ronan is mostly certain. It feels like it is; he nods. 

 

“I didn't scry into your dream;” Adam continues, “which is the only way we've shared dreams before. So, what did you  _ do _ ?” 

 

Ah. Now Adam is pissed off at the circumstances and Ronan. This was fair, but it didn't mean that Ronan has to like it. 

 

“Didn't do shit,” Ronan says. “Look, Parrish, the only fucking thing I know here is that we're asleep, in my dream, and I don't know what for or fucking why.” 

 

“Useful,” Adam snaps. 

 

Ronan turns away, because he's always more… open in his dreams, and he doesn't need Adam to see that he's upset. He stares at the opposite wall willing his eyes to stay dry. This was stupid; he doesn't dream into rooms - or man made shit - he dreams into forests, and skies, and fog. 

 

This was Shit. This (shit) was a small white room, no windows, no doors, no nothing. Just Adam, and Ronan, and frustration. 

 

-

 

Adam is breathing heavily behind him, clipping each breath so it was steadily regular. Ronan focuses on keeping his own breathing quiet, on smoothing his face. 

 

“Is this supposed to force us to talk to each other?” Adam asks the back of his head eventually, “make us resolve our argument?” 

 

Ronan opens his mouth to say that he didn't know, but shuts it again in shock when a door simply appears in front of him. Adam steps past him before he can move, hand outstretched for the door knob, and then pauses. There's a note pinned to the door. A small folded up piece of paper, dark ink visible through the folds. Adam unpins it carefully, holds it a moment, and then unfolds it. He snorts, and passes it to Ronan. 

 

In cramped, squiggly writing, the note said; 'say sorry’. 

 

“I didn't write this;” Ronan says immediately, “this isn't from me. Ok? I - god, look, this isn't - the fight wasn't your fault.” 

 

Adam's face is impassive. “I know,” he says. 

 

The door opens - not all the way. It opens a crack, and then stops like it’s being held shut by a chain from the other side. Like it’s waiting for something.

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, “um.” 

 

Adam still looks grumpy, but he’s also starting to look like his curiosity is outweighing his grumpy, which is a good sign, or at least it is for Ronan. 

 

“So…” Adam says slowly. Ronan is unsure if he’s addressing Ronan, or the room, or the dream, or whatever. “So this is like - we don’t get out of this room - this dream - until we apologise?” 

 

Ronan shrugs. 

 

Adam snorts;he takes the piece of paper back from Ronan’s hands and looks at it again as if he could have missed something extra on it. “Trust your brain to do something so stupidly convoluted and irritating,” he says. 

 

“I said I wasn’t doing this!” Ronan snaps. 

 

Adam meets his eyes, holds his gaze, and then rolls his eyes. Ronan grits his teeth; if he wasn’t already upset, wasn’t already pulled tight, he would have rolled his eyes right back and shoved his shoulder. Adam looks almost put off by the fact that Ronan does not do this.

 

“I believe you didn’t do this on purpose,” Adam says after eyeing Ronan up for a long moment, “but it’s still your wack ass brain doing this. So. What do you think? We apologise and we get out of here?” 

 

Ronan exhales loudly, crosses his arms, scratches the back of one of them. “I guess,” he grunts at the floor, “but like. It’d have to be...real. We can’t just say the words.” 

 

“I guessed as much;” Adam says, “remind me what we were fighting about?” 

 

Ronan gapes at him. 

 

“I was tired!” Adam retorts, holding his hands up in defence, “I was half asleep when we started the argument and then I was  _ asleep _ , and then I was here. So sue me. What were we fighting about?” 

 

Now Ronan rolls his eyes. He doesn’t uncross his arms. He’s less  _ upset _ and more pissed now. 

 

“We were fighting because I asked you to fucking cut your hours so you weren’t up ‘til ass’o’clock because it makes you sleep deprived, cranky, and gives you shitty memory apparently,” Ronan snaps. 

 

Adam exhales. “Right,” he says, “right. I remember. Well that makes sense.” 

 

“My point makes sense?” Ronan asks, “About how obviously I’m right because you’re so tired you couldn’t even remember the fight?” 

 

“No,” Adam says, “it makes sense that I’d argue with you that about it because that’s a dumb as shit thing to say to me. I need the hours.” 

 

“Holy fucking shit,” Ronan grinds out, “do we have to go through this whole argument again?” 

 

“I’m so sorry this is inconvenient for you!” Adam begins, voice raising, and then cuts himself off because the door swings entirely open. “Huh,” he says, “I guess it didn’t have to be a sincere apology after all.” 

 

Possibly Ronan’s brain just still hated him. 

 

“I guess not,” Ronan says. 

 

“C’mon, then,” Adam nods at the door, “let’s go.” 

 

“You go,” Ronan grunts, because, he’s really not in the mood for waking up and going back to sleep right now. Or waking up and continuing the argument.  

 

“No,” Adam says, frowns at Ronan, “what if I go through and the door shuts? I’m not going through without you, geez.” 

 

“It’s my head,” Ronan says, “it’s not going to fucking hurt you.” 

 

Adam’s frown deepens. “It’s not me I’m worried about,” he says, “just come on, will you?” 

 

Ronan sighs heavily, but Adam is holding his hand out, and it might not be an olive branch, but it’s close enough. Also, Ronan would never not take Adam’s hand when offered. He takes it and lets Adam lead him out through the door into what looks like a greenhouse. 

 

“What the hell,” Adam sighs, his frustration palpable. He doesn’t let go of Ronan’s hand though, so that was nice. 

 

-

 

Once they were through the door entirely, it melts away behind them, leaving them - again - enclosed in a doorless room. This time though, the walls appeared to be made of glass - though they could see nothing through them, just white light as if it were midday in the height of summer - and the room itself was full of leafy plants and just opening buds, and a strong smell of growth and soil. 

 

“Uh,” Ronan says, “maybe it did need to be a sincere apology after all?” 

 

“I’m too tired for this shit,” Adam groans, “why can’t I just have a normal sleep?” 

 

“Because you’re not sleeping with anyone normal,” Ronan grumbles back, “if you want normal, you’re gonna have to go back in time and make a whole heap of different choices.” 

 

Adam shoots him a look that Ronan can’t decipher, and then walks further into the sunlit room, dragging Ronan by the hand behind him. 

 

“If we’re lucky,” he says while he walks, “there’ll be another door and another instruction waiting for us at the end of this room, and we can make our way through it.” 

 

“If we’re lucky,” Ronan repeats sourly. 

 

They walk past an abundance of beautiful plants - all lush and healthy and huge, tendrils and leaves brushing against window and ceiling, reaching out into the middle of the room to graze against their skin. But. Amongst all the beautiful plants were a low crop of rotting ones. 

 

He hadn’t realised at first because they were so hidden amongst the alive ones, but he’d had the smell at the back of his mind since he’d walked in, and when he finally catches sight of one of the rotting plants, he drags to a stop, pulling Adam short as well as he ducks down into the greenery to look at it. 

 

“What?” Adam asks, leaning in behind him, and then recoiling at the sight of the plant. 

 

It wasn’t just a simple overwatered plant gone mushy and dead, or a dried one. It looks diseased, like the rot was a pus oozing out of it as if it were made of meat. Now that Ronan had seen one of them, he could see the others too, neatly hidden behind leaves, or sunk into dirt, or simply just below his usual eyesight. 

 

“That’s disgusting,” Adam says flatly from behind him, “it looks like some..invasive rot or something.” 

 

“Mm,” Ronan grunts. He vaguely wants to touch it, to see what happens if he does, but, Adam might not hold his hands if they’re covered in putrid gunk. “Why do you think it’s here?” 

 

“Does it matter?” Adam sighs. His hand is on Ronan’s shoulder, gently tugging at him to stand again. “Come on. I want to go back to bed.” 

 

Ronan stands, reluctant, follows after Adam, less reluctant. They keep walking past the green leaves, the flourish of growth, the grotesque smell of death. He isn’t sure if it’s because he’s aware of them now, but he feels like he’s seeing more and more rotting plants. 

 

“Ronan,” Adam says, after they’ve been walking for what feels like an hour, is probably three minutes, and is possibly actually no time at all because this is a dream, “I don’t think there’s another wall.” 

 

“What?” Ronan says, because he had been busy trying to count the rotting plants per ten steps so he could determine whether or not the number was in fact increasing. 

 

“There’s no back wall,” Adam repeats, frustrated. He’s come to a full stop now, Ronan stumbles against him, Adam releases his hand and catches his arm to steady him. “We could walk forever, there’ll be no back wall.” 

 

“Oh,” Ronan says. If he squints ahead, he can only see leaves and branches and the bright light of the windows. If he looks behind them, he can still - very clearly - see the wall in which the door they had come through had been. “Oh, fuck.”    
  


Adam turns away, kicks lightly at a ledge of one of the wooden planters, and then drags his hands through his sleep mussed curls. “I have work at seven,” he grumbles, “I can’t be doing this right now.” 

 

“But we are,” Ronan says, and Adam turns again to glare at him for this unhelpful remark. “so we may as well do it.” 

 

“Do what?” Adam snaps, then sighs, passes his hand briefly over his face. “Do what?” He asks again, softer, “how do we solve this?” 

 

Ronan points at the nearest rotting plant. The next nearest is barely a foot away from it. He was right that they were increasing. 

 

“These plants are definitely some sort of tongue in cheek metaphor,” he says, “just look at them. Smarmy bastards.” 

 

Adam looks, then he sighs again and drops himself down on his knees to sit on the tiled floor. 

 

“Ok,” he says, “ok.” 

 

Ronan sits down too, cross legged, looks at Adam expectantly. 

 

“I guess the good news,” Adam says in the same tone he wears when he’s reading his tarot cards, “is that your dreams at least think that the majority of our relationship is healthy and growing.” 

 

Ronan nods. 

 

“The bad news,” Adam adds, ducking his head down and picking absentmindedly at a scab near his ankle, “is that it looks like whatever’s killing these plants is contagious as well as disgusting.” 

 

“The further we walked, the more there were,” Ronan agrees. 

 

Adam pulls a face at that - or possibly because he’d flicked the scab off and it wasn’t quite healed underneath, a bead of blood had already welled up - “What are you saying, then?” he asks quietly, “Because with this metaphor, it  _ sounds _ like you’re saying that the longer we stay together the crappier this is gonna be.” 

 

Ronan reaches out to press his thumb against the pink patch on Adam’s leg where the blood has started to trickle down his ankle now the scab is gone. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he says roughly, hooking the rest of his fingers around Adam’s ankle to keep the pressure on the tiny wound. “Dumbass.” 

 

“Explain then,” Adam says, loops his own fingers around Ronan’s wrist. 

 

“We were just walking past all the dead shit,” Ronan grumbles. 

 

Adam looks at him, as if he’s expecting Ronan to say more, and then he nods his head. 

 

“Instead of pulling them out before the infection could spread? That’s pretty messy work.” 

 

“I see you get the metaphor,” Ronan grunts. 

 

“So, what?” Adam asks, “We need to argue more about how you think I don’t get enough sleep and how I think you don’t understand how jobs work?” 

 

Ronan would prefer not to. 

 

“No,” he says, “no. We’re not pulling any shit out when we just argue. We gotta come to a fucking resolution, Parrish, else we’re just leaving the fucking rot there.” 

 

“Sometimes,” Adam says, “you’re surprisingly deep.” 

 

“I’m a mineshaft,” Ronan grunts, “quit acting surprised.” 

 

“Full of poisonous gasses,” Adam agrees. 

 

“I said I was sorry about the beans and onions,” Ronan replies, squeezing Adam’s ankle, “God, you whiner.” 

 

“Filled with precious ore, too,” Adam adds. 

 

“Adam,” Ronan says, very ready for this topic to be finished already before he just wants Adam to hug him and tell him nice things about himself. “C’mon.” 

 

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to make this better,” Adam says, “we’ve already laid this whole argument bare.” 

 

Ronan thinks that he would probably prefer to say things that turned his stomach as heavy as mud, rather than sitting here in a greenhouse full of dying plants for the rest of his life, so he opens his mouth again.

 

“I feel like you’re avoiding me,” he says to Adam’s ankle. “Like you can’t wait to get out of the house in the morning. Like you come home late so you have an excuse not to talk to me. We only have a few weeks of your break before you go back to uni, and I feel I’ve seen more of you leaving than anything else this whole time you’ve been here.” 

 

Adam doesn’t reply at first, except to start rubbing his thumb against the inside or Ronan’s wrist, brushing up beneath the leather bands, against his veins and thin lines of raised skin. 

 

“You didn’t say any of that in our previous arguments,” he says. 

 

“No,” Ronan agrees, “because it was lesser to my still very valid point that you’re working yourself to the bone with the hours you’re keeping. You’re exhausted all the time. This is meant to be a holiday. A break. A time for you to relax.” 

 

Adam is quiet again for a long while. He keeps rubbing his thumb against Ronan’s skin. 

 

“You know why I’m working so much,” he says eventually. 

 

“Yes,” Ronan agrees, “because you want to get out of uni with as little debt as possible. Because you don’t want to ever have to come to me for finances. Because you’re a stubborn git.” 

 

Adam ignores the stubborn git bit. “Because,” he says, “because I want our future to be good, ok? I don’t want any - any - you know I have hang ups about feeling like I owe people.” 

 

“Stupid,” Ronan says. 

 

“Maybe,” Adam says, “but I have them. And if I let you pay my way over the break I’d feel like I owe you, and I’d resent you for it, and I don’t want to resent you. What if we turn into those awful couples who keep record of everything they’ve done for each other and expect equal pay out? I don’t want to turn fifty and have you remind me that you paid my way through life.” 

 

“I wouldn’t!” Ronan says sharply, ignores the warmth in his stomach over the idea of being fifty and still hand in hand with Adam Parrish. “Adam -” 

 

“I know,” Adam sighs, “but - the idea still scares me.” 

 

“You resent me anyway,” Ronan points out, “for not wanting you to work so much.” 

 

“You resent me,” Adam points out right back, “for working so much.” 

 

“If this is an impasse,” Ronan says, “I think we’re going to be stuck in this rotting eden forever.” 

 

“Which we can’t do,” Adam says, “because I have work at seven.” 

 

“Can we just forget about how you have work at seven?” 

 

“How can we?” Adam says wryly, “It’s basically what the argument is about.” 

 

“Y’know,” Ronan says, aware that he might be about to dig himself into a hole, “you didn’t say you weren’t trying to avoid me. Y’know. When I said I felt like you were.” 

 

Adam gapes at him, shakes his head. “I thought it didn’t need to be said.” 

 

“It needs to be said,” Ronan says to the ground. 

 

“I’m not trying to avoid you,” Adam says firmly, “I hate that I’ve not seen you very much this break. I hate saying goodbye. I miss you all the time. I love you.” 

 

This was nice to hear. He nods. 

 

“I’m never going to hold money over you, y’know,” Ronan says then, almost a whisper. “Even if you decided to never work. Even if I was your glorified sugar daddy. I never would.” 

 

“Please,” Adam says, “never refer to yourself as a sugar daddy. But. I know.” 

 

“I’m not asking you to not work at all,” Ronan continues, “or to - or to become complacent or whatever the shit it is you’re worried of. I just want more time.” 

 

“You think I don’t want the same thing?” Adam’s face was all screwed up, tilted towards the light streaming down through the ceiling.

 

“In theory, I know you do,” Ronan says, “but in practice it’s hard to remember when you’re so hard headed about spending all the time we have on work.” 

 

Adam’s scowling, but Ronan doesn’t think it was directed at him this time. 

 

“I didn’t think it upset you so much,” Adam says eventually to the sunlight. 

 

“I complain about it daily,” Ronan points out.

 

“Yeah,” Adam tips his head down until his chin is to his chest. “But you also complain about the sun, and how your toast is a little too crunchy, and everytime Opal jumps on you even though you love it.” 

 

“I don’t love you being gone all the time.” 

 

“I know,” Adam says emphatically. “It’s just. I thought it was just one of those, y’know? A low-level complain. Something you didn’t like but didn’t effect you that much.” 

 

“I hate it,” Ronan slots in here, voice rougher than intended. 

 

“I didn’t know,” Adam says again, looks up at Ronan through his sun-lit lashes, “I’m sorry.” 

 

Ronan shrugs. 

 

“I didn’t realise it made you feel so crap,” Adam continues, “and I probably would have if I wasn’t so tired and busy, huh?” 

 

Ronan shrugs again. 

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice,” Adam says, reaches out to cup Ronan’s cheek with one hand, tips his head down so they can make eye contact. “I’m sorry I dismissed your complaints.” 

 

“It’s not that I don’t want you to have your fucking independence,” Ronan grumbles, turning his face in Adam’s hand so he’s speaking straight into Adam’s palm, “I do. It’s just...” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, rubs his thumb over Ronan’s cheek bone. “Ok. Ok. I’ll cut my hours. Ok?” 

 

Ronan shrugs again, his eyes closing. Adam leans in close to press their foreheads together and speaks again, breath mingling together. 

 

“I’m gonna cut my hours,” he repeats, “because I wanna spend more time with you too, ok? I never wanted to make you feel shitty.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, “geez. I get it.” 

 

Adam kisses him, not a soft peck. Ronan kisses him back. 

 

“What about the money, then?” Ronan mumbles, because he’s not one for just accepting ends to arguments without a proper answer on both sides. Adam sighs against his mouth and kisses him again before answering. 

 

“Depends how much I cut,” he says, not pulling away from Ronan’s face, just speaking it all smooshed against Ronan’s cheek. 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, “what’s the plan in general then?” 

 

“I guess,” Adam says, slow and very Henrietta, “I guess I could ask my boyfriend if he minds eventually marryin’ someone with a fuck load of student loans.” 

 

“If your boyfriend says no, then he’s a shithead and not worth it,” Ronan says, then, “by eventual, do you mean you’re proposing  right now or are you just assuming I’ll marry you at some point?” 

 

“Assumin’,” Adam says, tugs back a little to frown at Ronan, “shithead.” 

 

“I’m gonna say yes,” Ronan mumbles, “and also, just to clarify, I’m fine with you having student loans if you can bear having them yourself. Or, y’know, you could let your boyfriend,  _ eventual husband _ , just pay what you’d lose because I want to spend more time with you.” 

 

“I could,” Adam agrees, “but I’d feel better about the loans.” 

 

“Weirdo,” Ronan says, “ok.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says. 

 

“Eventual husband,” Ronan mumbles, pressing his face forward in request for more kisses. 

 

“Shush,” Adam says, lifting his other hand so he’s cupping Ronan’s face fully, kisses him back hard, “focus on the eventual part for now.” 

 

“Don’t wanna,” Ronan grumbles. 

 

“I can’t think about weddings until after I graduate,” Adam says firmly, “so.” 

 

“So -” Ronan begins, and then, “ - Ohh fucking shit!” 

 

“Shit!” Adam agrees, because the tiled floor they are snuggled together on has suddenly entirely disappeared and the both of them are falling and falling and - 

 

-

 

“Holy shit!” Ronan growls, sitting upright with a wild flail; they were back in bed - probably they had never left. 

 

“God,” Adam moans from the pillow, “why did that have to end with a fear fall?” 

 

“Common theme in my dreams,” Ronan grunts, dropping himself backwards against his pillow and turning to look at Adam. “The waking up falling thing.” 

 

“Don’t like it,” Adam yawns, reaches out to brush his hand against Ronan’s face, “let’s not do that again.” 

 

“Sure,” Ronan agrees, “I’ll do my best.” 

 

“I’ve gotta go to work this morning,” Adam mumbles, “but I’ll get my hours cut this afternoon.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, “ok. Thanks. Shithead.” 

 

“Dickhead,” Adam retorts, “I love you.” And then, “Is that one of the plants from the dream-greenhouse?” 

 

-

 

They planted the stolen/gifted dream plant that evening once Adam had returned home from work. It had wilted a little bit during the day, despite Ronan putting it in water, and it required a little bit of a magician’s touch to get it happy to be planted. 

 

“Do you think it’ll get all gross whenever we argue?” Ronan asks once Adam stands up, brushing dirt off of his palms onto the seats of his jeans. “Like the ones in the dream?”  

 

“No,” Adam shakes his head, “I think it’s gonna grow like crazy, like the big ones we saw in the greenhouse. I think it’ll be just fine. So long as you water it while I’m away.” 

 

“Is that a metaphor?” Ronan asks, tugging Adam by his belt loops until Adam plasters himself stomach to stomach with Ronan and tips his head back for a kiss. 

 

“Maybe,” Adam admits after the kiss. 

 

“I’ll water it,” Ronan says, “I won’t forget about it. I’ll always do my best to understand what it needs.” 

 

“Are these your wedding vows?” Adam asks. 

 

“They could be,” Ronan shrugs, “if I were marrying a plant.” 

 

“I’m going to do my best to give you what you need too,” Adam says, “I promise I’ll do better.” 

 

“I know,” Ronan says, then, “if this plant gets  big enough, we could ask it to be the best man.” 

 

“Dumbass,” Adam snorts, “Gansey and Blue would murder us.” 

 

“Probably,” Ronan agrees, “hey.” 

 

“Uh-huh?” Adam asks, pulling away from Ronan and grabbing his hand so they could walk back to the house without looking like a two headed monster. 

 

“I love you,” Ronan says, “we’re never gonna rot.” 

 

“Except when we’re dead,” Adam says with a grin, and then laughs when Ronan shoves him. Laughs more when Ronan follows up the shove with another kiss. 

 

They walk back to the Barns. 

 

The plant flourishes. 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is now etoilegarden!


End file.
